


Christmas Time in the City

by elospock



Category: Mad Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elospock/pseuds/elospock
Summary: Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was because it was almost Christmas, and the holidays always made Peggy feel giddy and nostalgic. But somehow, right at this moment, she didn’t really regret having said it either.“Do you ever think about what would have happened if…” she started.Don’s head snapped up, his eyes finding hers. “What would have happened if what?”*What if Peggy and Don dared speak out loud what could have—and didn't—happen?This is going to remain a friendship fic, though also stretching towards all the underlying feelings two very close people can have for each other, even if never acted on romantically.*This is set in an undefined moment of the canon, on purpose. Because this is about the two characters, and their dynamic, and wants to be a reflection, away from the drama and the plot surrounding it.
Relationships: Don Draper & Peggy Olson, Don Draper/Peggy Olson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Christmas Time in the City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pallanwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallanwen/gifts).



> Dear Yuletide friend,
> 
> Wishing you so much love and joy for this Holiday season! :)
> 
> Had a lot of fun writing this little glimpse into Don & Peggy's relationship / friendship. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> All the love & live long and prosper & the happiest of Yuletides! xo

Peggy looked out her office window, blinking away the exhaustion and the increasingly painful headache building up at the base of her skull. She sighed, as she looked at the snow, now falling thickly over the never-sleeping city. It would be hell to try and find a cab when she’d finally be able to make her way home.

Rubbing her forehead, she reached for her glass, still half-full of scotch. She took a sip from it, relishing in feeling the bite of the cheap liquor on her tongue, and its burn slowly making its way from her lips down her throat to her stomach.

The young woman looked down to the half-finished presentation she was working on. She snorted, rolling her eyes at herself. What was she even doing here, on the weekend before Christmas, working on a presentation whose credit would be taken away from her anyway. As usual. She glanced at the clock on her desk; it was almost 1. Groaning, she let her head fall on the hard wood, her forehead resting amidst the folders and tracing paper. She was supposed to take an early train in the morning to go visit her family. God, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to face the disapproving eyes, the severe glances, looking her up and down, judging her choice of outfit, how thick her legs were, how naked and unadorned her left ring finger still was. She was exhausted just thinking about it.

Rubbing her face with her hands, Peggy got up, swaying a little as she did so, from too much scotch and too many late nights. She drained the rest of her glass, and went to pour another—but her last bottle was now empty.

“Well, fuck,” she cursed loudly, her voice hoarse from its lack of use for the past hours. It was obviously too late to find a place that would still sell some liquor. Maybe… Oh, why the hell not, she thought to herself, as she got out of her office, walking past the empty rows of desk in the dim lights of the main open office.

She paused when she got to Don’s office. She knew he wouldn’t mind the intrusion, but even after all these years, she still felt wary whenever she had to go in Don’s office while he wasn’t there. She couldn’t exactly explain why; there just was something uncanny about how eerily quiet but very much lived-in the office always felt.

Shaking her head and with it the cobwebs induced by the late night, Peggy pushed the door, and almost screamed when she realised someone was already in it.

Don was already in it.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared me, Don.”

“Peggy?” Don blurted, almost spilling his own drink on whatever he was working on. “Jesus, what on earth are you doing here? I thought I was alone burning the midnight oil, your office was so quiet. I thought you left hours ago. Like everyone else.”

She snorted. “Didn’t. Was just very absorbed apparently.”

He arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “Apparently, yeah.”

They looked at each other for a minute. There was something like—was it ease? comfort? being used to one another's quirks? Whatever it was, Peggy knew that Don was the only man she ever felt this way with. Like there were no unsaid expectations, no hidden tension, no game. It was like they were able to cross the usual boundaries between people, and just, simply, see—really see—each other.

But something was amiss. Peggy frowned. Didn't Don say something about picking up his kids tonight, earlier that week? “Shouldn’t you be home, though?” she asked.

The dark-haired man shrugged, standing up abruptly and stepping towards the window behind his desk. “Me? Why?”

The young woman sighed. Yeah, something definitely was wrong. But would Don tell her? He closed up so easily where his children were concerned...

“Well…” she started, choosing her words carefully. “It’s almost Christmas. Surely, your children would be happy to spend more time with their dad?”

He didn’t reply.

“Don?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, looking more exhausted and worn out than Peggy had ever seen him. “Why are you here, Peggy?”

So, they were going to ignore it. That was fine, she was used to it. She'd get it out of him some other time, maybe when things were not exacerbated by the end of year and Christmas atmosphere.

She showed the empty bottle of scotch in her left hand. “Came to raid your liquor cabinet.”

Don snorted. “Just like that, without telling me? Exchanging an empty bottle for a full one, as though I wouldn’t notice?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Really, Don? Would you notice?”

He laughed. “Alright, fair enough. I probably wouldn’t. Well, then, don’t let me stop you.”

Peggy walked towards the credenza where was stashed all of Don’s good liquor bottles. She put down the empty one on top of it while she rumamged through the content of the cabinet. She raised her eyebrows.

“Wow, you have a bottle of 25-year-old Talisker, just hanging in there, amidst the Johnny Walker and Canadian Club?”

Don smiled, almost wistfully. “A gift, from an old friend. Grab me and yourself a glass and bring it over here, will you? ”

“Don—”

“No, there’s no Don,” he cut her off sternly, sitting back behind his desk. “I was saving it for a special occasion that never seems to come, so why the hell not open it now, before someone else steals it.”

Too stunned to reply, Peggy did as Don asked and brought the bottle over to his desk. He opened it gingerly, looking at the label fondly, before inhaling the first draft of the powerful and smokey amber liquid.

“God, that smells good,” he said after a minute. He looked up at Peggy, who was still standing, holding the two glasses. “You’re gonna sit down, or what?”

Rolling her eyes, she sat down on one of the chairs, and insolently put up her legs up to rest on the edge of the desk, her shoes lying right next to Don’s phone.

He arched an eyebrow, but didn’t comment or add anything. Using the bottle, he motionned towards her. She placed the glasses on the desk, and let him fill them both too much for the late hour and for coworkers on a Saturday night.

Raising her glass, Peggy looked straight into Don’s eyes, a small smile on her lips. “Merry Christmas, Don.”

He smiled back, but there was something strained to it. After a second of hesitation, he mirrored her gesture. “Merry Christmas, Peggy.”

They drank in silence for a little while, both getting lost in their own thoughts. Peggy’s mind was half on the presentation she had been working on earlier, but also on her personal history with Don, and copywriting in general. It seemed so long ago since she had started as just a secretary… Felt like it had all happened yesterday—but also like it had happened decades ago. Memory was strange like that; how both far and close some memories seem to always be.

Her wind wandered to all of those moments with Don, spent arguing, spent talking, debating, creating. The way he was so stubborn, the way _she_ was so stubbord, how they butted heads constantly and yet also worked seemlessly together. How he’d been her mentor. How he’d held her hand and kissed it that fateful time she had resigned.

Peggy looked up at Don, watching him intently. He was still such a handsome man. The years had done nothing but add character to his face, more and more lined around the eyes, the mouth, the forehead. There was something hard to his face and his body, but also some undercurrent of softness; a side Peggy knew he barely ever let anyone see. She wasn’t even sure Megan had ever seen it. It made her wonder why she was able to perceive it so well. Then again, she had known Don for so many years now. And she’d always been good at guessing what was lurking beneath the surface in most people. Don was no exception.

She’d always found him to be good looking, of course. It was not a new catharsis or anything. But she had never really thought to pause, and think about it really. She’d been aware of how handsome and seductive he was, but as she had never been on the receiving end of his charms, it was as though she had never really seen it before. And yet, she’d also always been aware that there was a depth to their relationship; a depth she had never felt with anyone else. But was it of a romantic nature per se? She wasn’t sure.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if…” she started, catching herself before she finished her sentence. She cursed inwardly; she hadn’t meant to say any of it out loud.

But maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was because it was almost Christmas, and the holidays always made Peggy feel giddy and nostalgic. But somehow, right at this moment, she didn’t really regret having said it either.

Don’s head snapped up, his eyes finding hers. “What would have happened if what?”

Peggy shrugged. “I don’t know. If we had slept together. If we had acted on some of this tension, between us. If we’d gone on a date, for God’s sake. Anything.”

Don just gaped at her. She had stunned him into silence, apparently. That was no mere feat, she would have to brag about it to Roger after the holidays.

“This tension?” he managed to articulate after a while.

She rolled her eyes again. She wasn't in the mood for mind games, not tonight, not with him. “Oh, come on, Don. You know what I’m talking about.”

He looked at her peircingly, his jaw clenched hard. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Groaning, Peggy let her head fall into one of her palms. “Don—”

“No, what I meant is—” he interrupted her. “I don’t know what would have happened, Peggy.”

She swallowed back what she had been about to say and looked at the man in front of her with disbelieving eyes.

“Things would have been different, I’m sure,” she ended up saying, to fill the silence more than anything.

Don huffed. “Of course they would have. See what happened with Megan?”

Peggy snorted, letting some contempt and bitterness filter through her voice. “Yeah, don’t think anyone will forget it anytime soon.”

Don nodded graciously in her direction, ignoring the bite of her words. “Exactly.”

“So you’re saying, I would have ended like Megan?”

He shook his head, laughing humourlessly. “That’s not what I’m saying, no. Because you are not Megan, and never will be.”

Ouch, that hurt. Of course, Peggy knew she was nowhere near as pretty and tall and perfect as Megan, but to be dismissed just like this? That hurt. “Wow, thanks, Don.”

Don sighed impatiently, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “No, you’re not listening, Peggy. You’re nothing like Megan, even if we had been, I don’t know, together, or anything. You wouldn’t have wanted for me to do anything on your behalf. You still would have wanted to climb up the ladder by yourself, based on your own merit only, and not because I had connections.”

Peggy pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t have necessarily said no to the connections.”

It was Don’s turn now to roll his eyes at her. “Come on.”

He had a point, she had to admit. “You’re right. I would never have let you control my career in any way. But to be fair, I don’t think Megan wanted you to either.”

Don winced a little, but continued on. “Still. You’re nothing like her. You have this drive, and this authority… She never had that. Never will. You remind me a lot of me, you know.”

Peggy nodded. “Yeah, you keep saying that. People keep saying that.”

“We’re two of a kind, you and I.”

"We really are, it seems."

As they looked across Don's dark wooden desk, the implications, the what-if's and unresolved possibilities hanging heavily over their heads, they smiled. And for one second, one precious and fragile second, they weren't Don or Peggy anymore; they weren't old coworkers turned mentor and mentee turned friends. No; they were just two humans, who had felt something, who still felt something, and forever existed in the notion that that something was good—no matter what it became and how it evolved.

“Another?” said Don, quirking an teasing eyebrow, already holding the bottle of Talisker.

Peggy smiled. "With you? Always."


End file.
